


Safe, Sound

by triggerswaggiehavoc



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Anniversary, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 05:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15478812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggerswaggiehavoc/pseuds/triggerswaggiehavoc
Summary: Safety is the number one reason Jeonghan claims for why he likes being the little spoon.





	Safe, Sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xumyuho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xumyuho/gifts).



> happy happy birthday!!!! most of your birthday has already gone by by now (and it's actually over already in my current time zone :-[ ) but it's still your birthday for you so i want to give you something... i totally forgot to have anything ready before like a week and a half ago, but i really really wanted to give you something because you are so so special and important to me and i just love you so much. my light. my precious precious aalo. i hope you have had an AMAZING birthday so far and i hope it continues on to be the very best birthday you have ever had!! i am so proud of you and all you've been able to accomplish this year and i love you sososososooooooooooo much! all i hope is that you'll like this little gift i have for you. happy birthday!!!!!!!!!

Safety is the number one reason Jeonghan claims for why he likes being the little spoon. He says it makes him feel safe, and even though Minghao knows that's not the real heart of what he means, the way he says it with so much conviction is enough to make him give in every time. Minghao doesn't always feel like cuddling, but whenever Jeonghan says he wants to, he'll still do it. After a while, it always feels nice anyway.

When he wakes up in the morning, his arm is stiff. Jeonghan is always slow to rise anyway, but Minghao has to be at work so much earlier, and it's one extra pain in the morning to wake up with a completely limp body weighing down his arm with a full sort of vigor only Jeonghan could hope to manage in his sleep. Sometimes, he waits a bit before trying to remove himself. He stares at the navy blue dyeing the walls so early in the morning and wishes he could just go back to sleep. Listens to Jeonghan’s quiet breathing in front of him. Waits until his heartbeat falls in time. Moves.

Despite how deeply he always seems to be sleeping, Jeonghan notices that first move every time. While Minghao pulls his arm back, Jeonghan’s sleepy hands grab after it, hold on tight by just the fingers like he's gripping the very edge of a cliff high above a rocky ocean.

“Let go,” Minghao whispers into his ear, but it only makes Jeonghan hold all the tighter.

“I refuse,” he mutters, groggy, voice a little hoarse after a night’s long sleep. Minghao wiggles his fingers.

“I have to go to work, Jeonghan,” he says, trying now to free himself by way of inching the rest of his body back, but Jeonghan catches on and loops one arm through Minghao’s too quickly for him to do anything about it. Minghao sighs into Jeonghan’s hair. “Come on.”

“I don't want you to leave,” he mumbles. It sounds so genuine Minghao is almost convinced to stay. Secretly he's afraid Jeonghan might someday convince him to quit his job altogether. “Just stay for five more minutes.”

“Five will be ten,” Minghao says, “and then ten will be twenty. And then I'll be late.” Against his more decent judgement, though, he's already settling back down. Jeonghan massages between his knuckles a little bit with a contented sort of hushed morning chuckle.

“Relax a little,” he says, quiet. “Your shoulders are too tense.”

“As if you can tell that from there.”

“I can always tell.” Slowly, he drags Minghao’s captive hand to his lips and presses a small circle of soft kisses to the back of it. “Just five minutes. You'll be okay.”

“Sure.”

More than five minutes pass, but only because Minghao lets them. He knows exactly what five minutes feels like, but if he tries to move again that soon, Jeonghan will tell him it's only been two. He waits about eight minutes, which he can afford to lose as long as he hurries getting ready, before extraction attempt number two.

“No way it's been five minutes already,” Jeonghan protests, but his grip is loose enough that Minghao can really escape it this time.

“It's been more than that,” Minghao tells him, slipping off the bedside and into the weary darkness. He's used to dressing in the dark enough by now that he can almost tell the colors of his ties just by touching them. More than he can see it, he hears Jeonghan turn on the bed to face him while he dons his clothes for the day.

“I wish you didn't have to leave,” Jeonghan says softly, over the rustle of bedding and clothes. Minghao laughs a little while he slides a pair of slacks on, gropes around in the closet for his belt.

“You've gotta go to work later, anyway.”

“I know,” he sighs, “but still. I get so lonely every time you go.”

“You're too dramatic,” Minghao tells him with a light roll of the eyes.

“Maybe,” Jeonghan admits. He waits a beat before asking, “Did you roll your eyes just now?”

Minghao’s lips quirk into a smile as he fastens his buckle. “Maybe.”

“I knew it,” Jeonghan says with a laugh. Then he blows out another breath of tired air. “But I just wish we could have breakfast together sometimes.” 

“You could always get up and have breakfast with me now,” Minghao reminds him, hands fumbling with the tie around his neck. He could tie it faster, but he's stalling on purpose. As long as he doesn't take too much time eating breakfast, he should still be alright.

“I guess I could do that,” Jeonghan admits, but his voice sounds so pained at the mere thought Minghao can't help but let out a very pronounced laugh, pulling the tie through its last loop until it's tight and crisp and ready for the day.

“I’ll see you later,” Minghao says, and he's halfway to the bedroom door when he hears the telltale hand pat on the duvet.

“Why do you always try to get away without giving me a kiss goodbye?”

“You already made me stay in bed longer.” He crosses back to the bed anyway, crouches just beside where he knows Jeonghan’s head is resting. “You're gonna make me late, seriously.”

“It just takes a second,” Jeonghan says, and then he's cupping one of Minghao’s cheeks and leaning out to greet him, other hand pulling lightly at the tie. Minghao knows Jeonghan likes for him to wear ties because he always does this. He's still tugging it just barely when his lips pull away. “Is this the tie I got you when we were dating?”

“How can you tell?”

“The texture is so distinct. Of course I can tell.”

“Maybe you just grab onto it too much.” For a moment longer, they only laugh quietly, breath dusting over each other’s faces. When it fades back into silence, Minghao pats the edge of the mattress. “Alright. Now I'll see you later.”

“One more for the road,” Jeonghan demands instead of releasing him, hand still firm on the end of the tie.

“You really want me to be late.”

“I just don't want you to go.”

“What's the difference?”

Instead of answering, Jeonghan kisses him again, just as full of the tender sweetness of morning breath as the first time. He smooths the tie back down against Minghao’s chest and gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze that says he's finally ready to make peace with seeing him go. “Alright,” he says at last, drawing his hands back to the comfortable warmth of the bedding. “I'll see you later.”

“See you.”

It takes about eight footsteps for Minghao to reach the doorway, and on step seven, he hears Jeonghan’s call from the bed, weak in volume but strong in conviction. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Minghao echoes back, and then he slips out into the hall and makes his way to the kitchen to get started on the few slices of toast he'll be needing to get himself through the morning. As he waits for it to go dark in the toaster, he checks his watch, exhales slowly. If he drives a little faster than he ought to, he should probably still be alright.

 

Even though it's been a while now already, Jeonghan still gets a small thrill when he looks at his finger and sees a ring on it, when he remembers how Minghao has one that matches exactly. Truthfully, he thinks it would've been nicer if they both could’ve had a diamond perched neatly in the center rather than just a plain gold band, but Minghao prefers the simplicity of this one, and the understated charm of it has grown on him, too.

On his lunch break, he keeps fidgeting with it, twisting it around in pointless circles over the knuckle while the rest of the teachers in the lounge carry on idle chatter about what nonsense their kids have been up to in the first few weeks of school. As he watches the light bounce off it in smooth rings, he realizes their anniversary is coming up soon. Three years already. When he was in high school, he never would've believed he'd be able to find someone who could put up with him for so long. How time does fly.

Three years may not be particularly long, but it still feels like an important milestone. The first year, of course, is the hardest one, and the second one is just to prove that the first wasn't a fluke. The third seems like things are finally becoming solid, and Jeonghan has always had faith in that magic number three; just like how he knew after their third date that Minghao’s road was one he wanted to go down. In any case, an anniversary is an anniversary no matter how many times it rolls around, so he'd better start planning something special before he forgets to.

“Why are you always staring at that thing like you'll forget what it looks like?” Jihoon’s voice comes from beside him, eyes crinkled over a cattish smile. “It's just a plain gold band, for crying out loud.”

“Trying to pick a fight?” Jeonghan asks, smiling back. “I've already warned my class that they don't want to have you as their music teacher.”

“And you're right to do so.”

Jeonghan blows a breath out through his nose. “Lay off, anyhow. My anniversary is coming up, you know.”

“I guess it was around this time of year,” Jihoon muses, absent. Jeonghan lets a small smile bloom.

“How sweet of you to remember.”

“Got anything planned?”

“Not yet,” Jeonghan says, thumbing at the band again, “but I'm thinking I should get around to something.” On the other side of the table, one of the third grade teachers erupts in laughter. Jeonghan lowers his chin to his palm. “Any ideas?”

“You’re asking me?” Jihoon scoffs. “Do I seem like the romantic type to you?”

“I don't know what you get up to in your personal time.”

“Not that,” Jihoon assures him. He watches the other teachers begin packing up their meager lunches briefly, eyes shrouded by a thin layer of glass. “How long have you been together again?”

“Three years now.”

“So short,” he whistles, then pretends not to notice Jeonghan’s forehead crease in a frown. After a short moment of consideration, he plants his hands on the table and stands. “Well, I don't have any ideas.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Well, it's not my marriage, is it?” Jihoon sneers down at him for a moment before softening. “Just do something special you don't normally do. If you love each other, that's enough, right?”

Jeonghan hums. “So you are the romantic type after all.”

“Ah, whatever. Stop slacking and go get your kids.”

While he leads the line of freshly-dined first graders back to the classroom, he thinks about it. Something he doesn't usually do. There's a lot he doesn't usually do, he guesses, but most of it isn't all that special. Minghao would hardly consider it an anniversary gift if Jeonghan rearranged all the glasses in the cupboard into neater rows or dusted off the lamps in the living room. He might not even notice at all. Before he's got a decent idea, they're walking back through the classroom door, and now it's time for science.

No matter how much he tries to act like it, teaching seven-year-olds that clouds are made of water and diamonds are just rocks is never the first thing on the list of things he wants to do. In the post-lunch stupor, all he wants is to go home and curl up in bed, with Minghao there at his side. If he could get away only doing that for the rest of his life, he'd have no complaints. Two arms, wrapped around him from behind like golden bands. One of his students raises a hand to ask a question, and it's then that an idea hits him. Gently, like a handful of cotton balls tumbling down.

 

When Minghao pulls his arms back in the thick of the early morning blackness, Jeonghan’s hands chase them, but somehow, it's not the same as usual. There's no vigor, no typical iron grip, no vice around the fingers. Instead, Jeonghan’s palms fumble warmly over the backs of Minghao’s wrists as they escape.

“You're being very easy today,” Minghao notes, heaving himself to his feet at the bedside. It feels so cold somehow, to be let go so simply. Jeonghan hums in response, long and low.

“I would love for you to climb back in,” he mumbles, barely audible. 

After another few seconds of shuffling, Minghao is sure Jeonghan is turned to face him getting dressed by now. He always wonders if Jeonghan can even make out his outline against the wall like this—in the dark, without his contacts in—or if he just takes comfort in knowing he's facing wherever Minghao is standing. Slowly, he pulls himself into clothes for the day, a boring combination of the same few pants and shirts as always. Until the very end, Jeonghan stays quiet.

It's only as he makes to slip out the door that Jeonghan’s voice rises on the air again. “You're too much,” he says, bed creaking as he adjusts himself. “Now you're just going to leave without even saying anything? Do you even love me?”

Laughter sifts through Minghao’s lips as he pads over to the bed and crouches down beside it. “I thought you fell back asleep,” he says. His hand finds its usual spot at the edge of the mattress, but Jeonghan’s doesn't meet it like usual, doesn't grab at his tie like always.

“I never fall back asleep before you leave.”

Minghao waits a while, but still no grip reaches his tie, no hand draws him in or lips find his own in the dark. Inches in front of him, Jeonghan only breathes quietly. Seconds pass on, minutes, years, lifetimes, and there is only the darkness and the silence and nothing else, Minghao’s palm pressed lightly to the top of the comforter. A breath slides slowly out through his nose. Maybe this time Jeonghan has really fallen asleep.

“And you say I'm too much,” he whispers. The sheets rustle in response.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Jeonghan asks, voice feathers.

“You won't even kiss me goodbye?”

“So you're waiting for it,” he muses over a soft laugh, hand finally inching to clutch at Minghao’s. He sighs. “Just give me a second. I'm building up resolve.”

“Resolve?”

“Help me up, alright?”

Without another moment’s hesitation, Jeonghan’s grip tightens around Minghao’s hand, and he’s hauling himself upright, feet kicking into Minghao’s knees when he drags them over the side of the bed and swings them to rest on the ground. One beat of rest. Then he’s rising to stand and pulling Minghao up with him by the hand, until they’re both on their own feet at full height, still joined by just one link.

“What’s going on?” Minghao asks as Jeonghan leans all his weight forward in a tired heap, chin nestling in the crook of Minghao’s shoulder. His breath is warm through the thin layer of Minghao’s crisp work shirt. “You never get out of bed this early.”

“We’re having breakfast together today,” Jeonghan informs him softly, hands fumbling for a light grip over his back. “I just need a second to get ready. Mentally.”

Minghao whistles. “I never thought this day would come.”

“Have a little faith.” He waits another moment, chin heavy and hands warm, before pulling himself onto his own support and feeling his way through the dark toward the bedroom door. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Breakfast, as usual, is nothing special. Toast that Minghao makes and a cup of coffee, freshly brewed. The only difference today is that Jeonghan sits at their small dining table and watches him make it, and he’s not in nearly as much of a hurry as he normally is. Jeonghan’s eyes are heavy on him while he spreads jam over his pair of slices, still heavy when he moves on to the extra slice he’s readying for Jeonghan’s sake. He’ll definitely eat on his own later, Minghao figures, but it feels like a waste to say they had breakfast together if they don’t both eat now.

“Do you always just have toast?” Jeonghan asks, voice still weighed down by drowsiness, as he nibbles at the charred crust of his slice. Something about the question tickles Minghao in a way he can’t ignore, and a small laugh slips through while he sips at his coffee.

“Sometimes I eat bagels,” he says, “when we have them.”

“Do you like bagels better? I can buy them more.”

“I can buy them, too.”

“I know.”

Silence falls around them again, thin but dense, not quite uncomfortable. Jeonghan’s gaze stays fixed on Minghao while they eat. He's like this normally, but somehow when he's tired, it seems even more piercing than usual. His eyelashes flutter lightly while he watches Minghao chew, dim kitchen light in golden rings around his irises. In some spots, his hair is still pressed into weird angles from the bed, and it makes him look so much softer around the edges, like he’ll smudge into the scenery if they're not careful. His eyes alone are concrete.

“Something bothering you about the way I eat?” Minghao asks, smile tucked into the corner of his cheek. Jeonghan’s grin in return is lazy.

“Do you ever look at me,” he asks, “and just think, ‘Wow, I'm really in love’?” Minghao chokes on his toast just a little bit.

“Only you would ask a question like that,” he says.

“I'm only asking because I'm doing that right now with you,” Jeonghan tells him. With one finger, he pushes around stray crumbs that have fallen off his slice of bread into a tiny little line that becomes a tiny little squiggle that becomes a tiny little swirl.

“Do I look that sexy when I eat bread?” Minghao asks. He wants to laugh, but deep between his lungs, he feels a little more like shedding a tear.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.”

Gradually, Jeonghan pushes at the edges of his swirl, collects the crumbs into a small circle and starts to push a divot in its bottom, straighten out the edges at its top, until he’s created a miniscule heart facing Minghao’s direction on the tabletop. In his tired half-daze, all his focus directs to the shaping of that small heart, fine tuning the edges relentlessly. Minghao finishes his toast and coffee while he watches Jeonghan work, and decides after glancing at his watch that he should leave now if he doesn’t want to be in a rush like always. 

“I’m gonna head out,” he says, standing to rinse his mug and plate in the sink. Over the sound of running water, he discerns the creak of Jeonghan’s chair and the sound of a few soft footsteps creeping up behind. When he turns around, Jeonghan’s hand is already tugging at his tie.

“Goodbye kiss,” he mumbles, neither a request nor a command, and his lips are at Minghao’s without another breath between them, gentle and subdued beneath his clinging sleepiness. When they’re standing, his pull on the tie has just a touch more vigor.

“Thanks for having breakfast with me,” Minghao says when they separate, voice low, dusty. Every time Jeonghan blinks, it gets slower, a few seconds of down time before his eyelids flutter open again.

“Sure.” Jeonghan draws him down for another kiss, then stands quiet for a moment after breaking off, eyes following the lines of Minghao’s face, occasionally flicking down to the tie held firm in his hand. Minghao pats his shoulders.

“I’ll see you later, then,” he says, and Jeonghan sighs, breath ghosting over his chin. “What’s the sigh for?”

“You didn’t even answer my question,” he whines, squeezing the fabric in his fist. Minghao hopes it won’t wrinkle. 

“What’s the question again?”

“You’re heartless.”

Minghao laughs, a light little thing, then tips Jeonghan’s chin up to kiss him one more time. Three goodbye kisses today. It feels a little like he’s going off to war. “Of course I do,” he whispers, watching the smile crawl up to Jeonghan’s cheeks. “Now I’ll see you later.” He turns to leave, but his tie is still captive. Though he tries to pull it free, Jeonghan won’t relent.

“One more,” he says to Minghao’s raised eyebrows, “for the road.”

“That’s four already,” he says, but lets himself be reeled in anyway. At least Jeonghan’s lips are always a comfortable place to land, always easy to find. At least he doesn’t have to worry that Jeonghan doesn’t want to kiss him.

“See you later,” Jeonghan whispers against the corner of his mouth, blinking heavy. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Minghao says back, hushed, and he watches Jeonghan drift back to the bedroom before he makes his way out the door, checking the time as he goes just to make sure he’s still got enough. When he looks at his phone screen, the date catches his eye, and he can’t help the subtle upward curl of his lips. So that explains breakfast. He’ll have to do something later, he guesses, to balance it out. 

 

After school, Jeonghan stops by the mall to buy a celebratory cookie cake even though he’d much rather head straight home. If it were up to him, they’d have an ice cream cake, but Minghao doesn’t like ice cream, and a regular cake doesn’t seem special enough, so he created this convenient middle ground for himself while he was still thinking about what he ought to do. The icing letters are a little smudged up by the time he gets it in the car, but he’s hoping Minghao won’t have the heart to mind it.

Normally, Minghao is already there by the time he gets home, changed into casual clothes and lounging on the couch while he waits for Jeonghan to get back, but today, there’s nobody inside when Jeonghan steps through the front door, nothing but unlit rooms and the quiet groaning of the AC. Partially, he’s thankful. The emptiness gives him a chance to hide the cake somewhere and surprise Minghao with it later, to boost the impact just that little bit, but even though he stands in front of the fridge in thought for a solid set of minutes, he can’t decide where is best. 

The tallest spots in the cabinet seem the safest, but he always makes Minghao reach up there for him. If he puts it there, though, there’s no chance Minghao will stumble across it before he’s ready to reveal. But it does mean he’ll need to borrow a stool to make sure it gets safely stowed. And he also needs to act quick, because if Minghao isn’t home already, there’s no doubt he will be soon. So Jeonghan grabs a stool.

He’s just slid the cake into a suitable spot among their meager collection of top-shelf wine glasses when he hears the turn of the key in the door and freezes. Minghao doesn’t look too surprised when he walks in—he never looks surprised, somehow—but he does let his eyes go just a bit wider as they follow up to meet Jeonghan’s at the top of the scene.

“Welcome home,” Jeonghan says.

“What are you doing up there?” 

“Rearranging the glasses,” Jeonghan rattles out mindlessly, nudging one to the right to prove himself. “What’s it look like?” Minghao’s eyes narrow.

“Looks like you’re definitely trying to hide something.”

“Well,” Jeonghan huffs, “you’re awful suspicious today considering how much later you are then normal.” A soft crinkle brings his attention to a large bag in Minghao’s left hand, partially obscured by one leg, and he jerks his chin toward it. “Where did you go?”

“Where do you think?” Minghao hefts the bag higher to set it on the counter, reaches in and rummages around a moment before pulling out a few white boxes. “I was getting dinner.” Jeonghan’s nose twitches, but he can’t catch the scent.

“Where from?”

“That Chinese place you like.” One by one, he takes out white boxes, until they’re stacked high on the counter, and the aroma is beginning to waft upward. Minghao flicks his eyes Jeonghan’s direction again. “Why don’t you come back down to earth so we can eat it?”

Jeonghan steps gingerly off the chair and tiptoes over, gaze careful on Minghao. “I thought you said this place was shitty,” he muses, lowering his face toward the warm steam rising off the boxes.

“Not shitty, but mediocre,” Minghao corrects. “But you like it anyway.” Without warning, his palms are both warm on Jeonghan’s back, massaging small circles above his shoulder blades. The quiet sensation of lips on the nape of his neck sends a tender wave of electricity down through all his nerves until it ends up sizzling in his fingertips. “Happy anniversary, Jeonghan,” he mutters into the skin.

“Happy anniversary,” Jeonghan echoes, reaching back blindly to brush his knuckles against Minghao’s hips. Though the smell is starting to set his stomach growling, he doesn’t feel like moving. If they could just stand like this for a long time, it would be nice. Nicer still if Minghao would wrap his arms around Jeonghan’s waist, just hold on a while. Instead, he picks up his hands and wanders back around to the other side of the counter.

“Well,” he breathes, “let’s eat.”

All the while they’re eating, Minghao throws suspecting glances between Jeonghan and the top of the cabinet, hardly paying attention to his own food. The warm smile on his lips alone is enough to make Jeonghan feel a little more at ease about it, but his cheeks still flush with anxious warmth every time Minghao looks.

“Cut it out,” he says, feeding himself a dumpling. Minghao chuckles.

“Cut what out?”

“You know what.”

“Are you afraid I’ll be able to guess what you hid in the cabinet?”

“I...did not hide anything up there.”

“Maybe if I hadn’t caught you in the act, I would believe you.”

“Is it illegal for me to want to rearrange the glasses every once in a while?”

“Not illegal,” Minghao hums, helping himself to another piece of chicken, “but definitely not what you were doing.”

“It won’t kill you to believe me,” Jeonghan huffs.

“And it won’t kill you to be honest,” Minghao teases. He clicks the ends of his chopsticks a few times in consideration before deciding to scoop up a little more rice. “What is it? Did you get me a teddy bear?”

For a hard second, Jeonghan is too surprised to answer. “A teddy bear?”

“Is that right?” Minghao asks, eyes sparkling. “Did I get it on the first try?” The excitement underlying every word stings Jeonghan in a bizarre way, right under the ribs.

“Did you want me to get you a teddy bear?” he asks, quiet. Minghao blinks back at him. “Was that what you wanted?” Suddenly, his stomach feels a little off, face warps into a frown.

“Are you okay?”

“Should I have gotten you one? Did you want a teddy bear?” He lowers his head to his hands, stares down at the table hard enough to drill a pair of holes. “Am I getting worse at this every year?”

“Jeonghan, will you please relax?”

“How can I!” he cries, throwing his chopsticks down with a thin rattle. He tries searching Minghao’s eyes, but it’s hopelessly unhelpful. “A teddy bear! That’s so easy. I should have known.”

“I am begging you to calm down,” Minghao says, extending his hand palm up to the middle of the table and waiting for Jeonghan to link up with it. When he finally does, Minghao’s thumb taps Morse on the side of his pinky, patient and weak. He waits a few moments before asking. “Are you calm?”

“I’ve been calm,” Jeonghan answers, and Minghao grins broadly at him. It still melts him in so many ways, that smile.

“Sure,” he says, then lets a slow breath slide forward onto the air. “Well, just because I guessed a teddy bear first doesn’t mean I wanted one, right? I’m just guessing.”

“I guess,” Jeonghan frowns, “but you seemed excited about getting one.”

“I was just excited about being right,” Minghao hums, grip tightening a little bit, “but I guess I wasn’t.” The light catches like stars along his eyelashes. “Care to tell me what you were actually hiding?” Jeonghan bites his lip.

“I wasn’t hiding anything.” And Minghao frowns at him.

“Come on.”

“Seriously.”

“I can just go check,” Minghao reminds him. “I can just get up and go look right now.” Now is Jeonghan’s turn to frown. And sigh. And hold his blinks out too long.

“It’s a cookie cake,” he whispers, low. Across from him Minghao doesn’t move for a minute.

“A cookie cake?” he asks after a while. It sounds much less compelling when he says it in that tone.

“Yes.”

There’s a pause before Minghao speaks again, and his smile is audible. “So you got a cookie cake,” he muses, and Jeonghan nods in defeat, eyes cast down. “And why exactly did you hide it in the top of the cabinet?”

“I thought it would be better if it was a surprise,” he admits, meeting Minghao’s eyes again. The warmth in them burns. “And you would never look there, so it seemed like the best place.”

Gradually, a chuckle begins to slip through Minghao’s lips, building slowly until it’s wormed its way between all of Jeonghan’s ribs and wrapped around the center of his chest. It’s infectious the way Minghao’s laugh always has been, and it makes Jeonghan feel less silly when he laughs along, but his cheeks are still ruddy in the worst way. Minghao’s other hand abandons its chopsticks and reaches to envelop Jeonghan’s in a cage of two, patting relentlessly like it’s a lost puppy who’s finally come home.

“Stop laughing at me,” Jeonghan says, trying without spirit to fan off the barrage of pats his hand is assailed with. In response to the attempt, Minghao only jostles his hand more.

“How can I not laugh,” he says gently, “when you’re being so weirdly cute today?” Now Jeonghan’s face goes red in the good way. Minghao has such a strong impact when he means to. Their hands come to a standstill, and he only looks Jeonghan deep in the eyes, lips gently curving.

“I’m so annoyed,” he says, running his free hand through his hair and huffing. “Seriously. Stop giving me those eyes.” Minghao does not stop giving him those eyes. “Today was supposed to be really nice. It’s our anniversary.”

“It has been nice, I thought.”

“I mean…” Another sigh. “I just wanted to pull it off well, you know? Three years is a long time.”

“You think?”

“For me, I think so, yeah.” Minghao’s thumb recommences that pattern, light and regular against the joint in Jeonghan’s pinky. He groans, just a little bit. “I just want things to go right.”

“I think they’re going right,” Minghao tells him. 

“They would have been if you got home one minute later.”

“Whether it’s a surprise or not, we’re still eating it, right?” He swings their joined hands around, upward toward the cabinet where the cake in question has been stashed. “Go on and get it down.” His smile gleams, grip tightens. “Or do you want to make me get it?” There’s more than just a little mischief on those lips.

As it turns out, the rising heat in the uppermost cabinet melted the icing on top a little, and the letters have begun to smudge together since it’s been sitting there. Minghao laughs at them immediately, nudges Jeonghan until he laughs along. It tastes just like any other cookie cake that’s ever been made, Jeonghan figures, with the same icing as the rest, same chocolate chips, same everything. Still, it’s a special flavor somehow.

When they lie in bed later, Minghao wraps his arms around Jeonghan’s waist without even being asked, presses his nose close in to the back of Jeonghan’s neck and lays a few small kisses there. Sometimes, the bed gets to feeling a little too warm, a little too cramped, but he’ll melt a thousand times before he wishes it were any cooler. Absently, his hands trace back and forth over Minghao’s arms, lingering especially at the wrists.

“It’s really our anniversary,” he says with quiet wonder. Minghao hums against his back. “Three years.”

“It’s been fast,” Minghao mutters into his skin. He’s playing piano in the space of Jeonghan’s stomach. “I guess every year will feel faster.” For a short while, they’re silent again.

“I really love you,” Jeonghan blurts quietly, and Minghao chuckles onto his spine.

“That’s so out of the blue.”

“Is it really?” The breath of Minghao’s sigh dusts over his neck like desert wind, warm and infinite.

“I guess not,” he says, and after a quiet moment of consideration, he adds, “I love you too. Really.” 

With those last few words, Jeonghan feels himself start to drift off just a bit, eyes slipping closed in his pocket of warmth, but Minghao withdraws his arms right before he can. He gropes back into the dark with one hand, fingers fumbling for the hem of Minghao’s shirt but not quite getting the leverage they need to pull him back.

“Hey, what’s the big idea?” he asks.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Minghao says.

“Ask me what?”

“A favor.”

Jeonghan’s ears prick up. “A favor?” he mutters, shifting until he’s facing Minghao’s direction, peering after that purple silhouette in the darkness. “What do you want me to do?”

“Tonight,” Minghao says, “would you hold me instead?” 

Face blank, Jeonghan blinks at the empty space in front of him. He waits, maybe for Minghao to take it back or maybe for him to repeat it, maybe for nothing at all. When he reaches out, he feels Minghao’s waist, traces fingertips over his stomach before a small laugh begins bubbling forth from his lips, smile cracking through his cheeks. 

“So you’ve secretly been wanting to be the little spoon,” he says, inching closer. As he nears, he feels Minghao turn around between his hands, runs a finger down his spine like piano keys. Minghao’s grip is tight on Jeonghan’s wrists when they thread their way around him.

“I just want to see if it feels as safe as you say,” Minghao explains. It’s so different to feel his voice through the crook of his shoulder, but Jeonghan thinks he likes it. He hums a while, presses his lips lightly to the side of Minghao’s neck he can reach easiest. There are definitely good points about this way.

“Do you feel safe?” Jeonghan asks after a while. Past his feet, he feels Minghao’s ankles twisting around restlessly.

“Sort of,” he ventures, settling back a little deeper into Jeonghan’s hold. “I think this is nice.”

“I think so, too,” Jeonghan says, tightening his arms. A flash of realization hits him, and he can’t help the smile that rises to his lips. “Yeah, this is really nice. When you try to leave in the morning, I just won’t let you go.”

Now Minghao laughs loud, ringing through the quiet blackness, but he makes no move to leave the arms he’s wrapped in. Instead, he snuggles in just so, makes his neck all the easier for Jeonghan to press kisses to. “You won’t have the arm strength to keep me down that early.”

“I had the leg strength to be up that early this morning,” Jeonghan reminds him.

“With my help.”

“Well, we’ll just see who’s going anywhere when the morning rolls around.”

“Guess we will,” Minghao exhales around a petering laugh. With one lazy hand, he drags Jeonghan’s up to his lips to kiss once before letting it wander back toward his stomach. He breathes out, the sound of the earth turning, and rests his head against the pillow with just a touch more weight. Jeonghan can hear him smiling. “I guess it wouldn’t be so bad not to go anywhere for a while.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading, and i hope you enjoyed!! i love soft domestic jeonghao so here you have it. all my most pressing ideas lately are jeonghao, and they actually know each other again suddenly, so i'm foreseeing a lot of jeonghao writing in the future for me personally. i hope everyone will stick around to see it with me too. thanks again for reading, and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated! i really hope you enjoyed, and i hope you'll wish some lovely wishes to my dearest friend on their birthday today!


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